


Spider Babies

by riventhorn



Series: Spider Spidey [2]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Egg Laying, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Peter is more like a spider, Spider Babies, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:39:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter cleared his throat nervously. “This is my—well, I suppose I should say our—egg sac.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spider Babies

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from.

In retrospect, Wade should have seen it coming. 

[ _Coming...haha! Get it? Get it?_ ]

Wade snorted a laugh. It was true, there had been a lot of come—and coming—involved that night.

**[And the plug. I mean, if we’re talking about memorable moments, here.]**

Oh, yeah. Totally memorable. He’d fucked Peter so full and then worked the pink rubber plug into him, keeping all that come deep inside. Peter had protested at the color—briefly—and then just moaned long and low as Wade twisted it a few times. Being plugged had also seemed to keep his more…bloodthirsty urges at bay, and Wade had been able to pet and cuddle him in a way that usually wasn’t possible after sex. 

He’d been leaving on an assignment the next morning and knowing that he’d be without his sexy spider for a whole two weeks…well, he’d pulled out that plug and fucked him again until Peter was an insensate, blissed-out wreck.

Returning today, he’d been expecting to be pinned to the wall as soon as he walked in the door and treated to some hot and heavy action. Instead, he’d found Peter lying in his web, looking pale and exhausted. Next to Peter, bound very, very carefully in an intricate pattern of threads, was a bundle of webbing, like a clump of snowballs all stuck together. Peter had one hand resting on it, and he curled around it protectively as Wade approached.

“What’s that, baby boy?” Wade had asked. “Hey, you look sick. Did you eat some bad Mexican food? I told you not to go to that place over on forty-ninth again.”

“I’m not sick,” Peter had replied. “Just tired.” He cleared his throat nervously. “This is my—well, I suppose I should say our—egg sac.” 

So, yeah. In retrospect, should have seen that one coming. Or maybe not. Because…eggs? Really?

Slowly, he became aware that he was just standing there with his mouth open. Even the boxes weren’t being helpful. Or unhelpful, as the case usually was. And Peter was looking increasingly agitated, shoulders hunching, his mouth turning down. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t even know this was possible. I swear I didn’t, Wade.” 

Wade sank down into the web, bouncing slightly as it adjusted to his weight. “How, um, _was_ it possible?” he asked, eyeing the sac warily. “I mean, out of the two of us, I’m the one who likes wearing satin panties and cute dresses.”

“It was…” Peter stopped, swallowing. “I really don’t want to go into the details,” he finished faintly. 

Wade stared at the egg sac. “What…uh, what is it going to look like? Are we talking eight legs here, because it ain’t gonna be easy to find baby clothes that fit if that’s the case.”

“I don’t know.” Peter sounded sullen, and he hunched down, drawing up his knees and putting his arms around them. 

“It’s cool. We’re both good with sewing machines.”

A little smile. 

Wade reached out and touched the egg sac, giving it a little poke. It felt sticky and…lumpy. 

“Careful!” Peter swatted his hand away. 

The boxes came back online. 

[ _Dude, we knocked up Spidey!_ ]

**[We’re feeling so virile right now.]**

Wade nodded. The boxes were right. This was hot. Weird but hot. He inched a little closer to Peter.

Peter looked at him. “No.”

“Awww, baby boy, come on,” Wade cajoled, making little kissing noises.

“NO,” Peter said more loudly. “I’m tired and sore and we’re going to be parents. I _don’t fucking know how to handle this_!”

So instead of sex, Wade spent the next two hours calming Peter down, making him tea and soup, and coaxing him away from the egg sac long enough to take a shower.

*

Over the next few weeks, Peter seemed to spend eighty percent of his time curled up around the eggs and the other twenty percent hunting criminals and sticking them in cocoons in the kitchen. It was starting to get hard to move around in there, and Wade practically had to become a contortionist whenever he wanted a slice of cold pizza from the fridge.

“I just feel like we need to have lots of food on hand for when the babies are born,” Peter muttered when Wade brought it up.

**[Did he just say ‘babies’? As in, more than one?]**

“Duh. Spiders always have lots of babies. Haven’t you seen Charlotte’s Web?” 

Peter frowned. “They’ll need to eat,” he repeated.

“I know, little spider.” Wade slung an arm around his shoulders. “But usually you try to avoid killing people. For some reason.”

“Because it’s morally wrong,” Peter recited, but his eyes had gone a little blank and he stared at the cocoons, licking his lips. “I’ve been _awfully_ hungry lately.”

Wade steered him out of the kitchen and ordered takeout. That night, he snuck around slicing open the cocoons and hauling criminals into the police station. Peter looked both relieved and sulky in the morning and wouldn’t let Wade back into his web for two days. 

*

“Nancy,” Wade said thoughtfully and then took a swig of beer.

“Hmmm?” Peter asked, not looking up from his book. They were lying in the web, next to the egg sac, reading (in Peter’s case) and drinking/eating/playing games on his phone/sharpening his katana (in Wade’s), as they did most nights now that the babies were coming. 

“Baby names,” Wade explained. “Nancy, and we should have a Veronica, too. And maybe a Roger.”

Peter put down his book. “I’m…not sure they’ll answer to names. Or even be able to talk.” He stared up at the ceiling, but his pretty eyes started filling with tears. “I won’t be able to sing lullabies or read them storybooks. They won’t care about Christmas and Santa. We’ll never be able to hang their artwork on the fridge. They’ll—”

“Hey, hey.” Wade stopped him, and Peter rolled into his arms, burying his face against Wade’s shoulder. “You don’t know that. Even if they _are_ spiders, I bet they’ll still like to listen to _Goodnight Moon._ I mean, it’s a classic. And who would say no to some nice, juicy insects in a stocking on Christmas morning?”

Peter laughed through his tears. “I love them already. No matter what, I love them.”

“Me, too, baby boy.”

*

The eggs hatched early on a Tuesday morning. Peter woke with a start, shouted, “Wade, they’re coming!” and crouched anxiously over the egg sac, blocking Wade’s view. 

Wade craned his neck over Peter’s shoulder just in time to see their first child emerge, surging up from out of the webbing like a ninja, moving so fast, Wade only got a glimpse of black and red before she (a fact established later once the excitement had died down) disappeared into Peter’s outstretched hands.

“It’s all right,” Peter cooed. “Oh, you’re beautiful, aren’t you?” He turned to Wade, eyes shining. “See?”

Wade looked down into Peter’s cupped hands. 

She was definitely a spider. A large spider already, and Wade wondered just how big these kids were going to get. Her legs were thin and graceful, and the markings on her abdomen were red and black. Deadpool colors and didn’t that just beat all?

“Here.” Gently, Peter tipped her into Wade’s palm. 

He sucked in a breath, a smile stretching his mouth wide, and stared down at their spider baby. Peter was right. She was gorgeous. 

Then the next one came scurrying out and things turned into a bit of a blur. 

It took them a while to even figure out how many there were because the kids were energetic and were already creeping out into the web and exploring nooks and crannies, despite Peter’s worried admonitions not to hurt themselves. But then Wade brought out the jar of Insect Eater Diet he had purchased at the pet store (just in case) and pretty soon they had quite the interested audience. Once they had scooped some food out onto a plate (powder blue and decorated with little bunnies) and gotten the kids eating, they were able to make a head count.

“Five girls and three boys,” Peter announced proudly. Some of them had the red and black markings, others a brighter red and blue, like Spiderman. 

*

A July evening a few months later found Wade outside, trapping the moths that were drawn to the electric light above the screen door. When he had enough—at least sixteen because if Trevor got two and Veronica only one, there’d be no peace—he took them inside. 

Peter was on the couch, watching TV, with Nancy and Elizabeth sitting on his shoulders. The rest of the kids were dangling from the ceiling, swaying back and forth in the breeze from the air conditioner. They all came scuttling over once they saw Wade, though.

“Mind your manners,” Peter said, and they obediently lined up, patiently waiting for Wade to hand them each their moths, although he thought he saw Trevor pinch Maggie out of the corner of his eye. 

None of the children could talk with human words, but they seemed to understand what Peter and Wade said well enough. Wade and Peter had quickly realized that words were unnecessary to understanding their children—joyful scuttling and spinning, sullen curling into a ball, crawling up an arm to cuddle, a sudden reproving nip on a finger, an inquisitively raised foreleg—were quite plain as to their meaning. 

The kids seemed to like singing, much to Peter’s delight and often wouldn’t settle down at night until they’d been serenaded with “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” (sung by Peter) and “Blue Moon” (sung by Wade). Peter had strictly forbidden “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” on the grounds that it might give the children nightmares. 

For the first few weeks, the kids had all slept in the bedroom with them, and Peter had spun eight small funnel webs every night until they began to get the hang of it themselves. When they did, Wade had suggested turning the lab/office/sewing room into a nursery and moving the kids in there. Not only because he was craving some privacy for himself and Peter (jerking each other off in the shower with music blaring loudly so none of the kids would hear was starting to lose its appeal) but also because spiders tickling his ear at five in the morning because they wanted breakfast was not his favorite way to wake up. 

So one day, while the kids were occupied with watching cartoons on TV, he and Peter moved all the junk out of the room, crammed it in a closet, and then assembled a Barbie Princess Castle for them, complete with a drawbridge and absolutely drenched in glitter. The children seemed pleased with the result, choosing rooms for themselves (Veronica immediately took the throne room) and spinning their little webs. Peter fussed over them, made sure that the night light was burning, that the appropriate lullabies had been sung, and then reluctantly accompanied Wade back down the hallway. He did get a lot more enthusiastic once their door was shut behind them, though. 

*

Peter practically had kittens the first time they took the kids outside on a bright autumn day. 

“What if they get lost?” he said anxiously, peering out the window. “What if a bird tries to eat them?”

“Petey, no bird is stupid enough to mess with our kids,” Wade reassured him. “Pigeons don’t try to eat six-inch-long spiders.” 

Still, Wade did make a lunge for Maggie when they had all made it to the rooftop (clinging to him and Peter) and she started scuttling along the edge. “Don’t give me a heart attack, kiddo,” he told her. “Remember, your silk isn’t as strong as your dad’s yet.” 

The kids loved playing on the fire escape, though, and Peter took each of them for a ride, swinging from building to building while the kids held tight and let out a bit of silk with their spinnerets, just to get the feel of it.

[ _Spider babies._ ]

**[Spider babies.]**

The boxes were contemplative.

“Yep,” Wade agreed. “Never saw that one coming.”

[ _Coming. Haha. Com—_ ]

**[Yes. That’s been established. New material, please.]**

Elizabeth crawled up his leg and then scuttled back down and moved about a foot away. She paused, looking back, waiting for him to follow. Wade did, and she showed him the three flies that she had caught, neatly cocooned and out cold.

“Huh, you’ll be beating your dad next,” Wade said proudly and stood up to yell out to Peter that they had the most amazing kids ever.


End file.
